


We Don't Have to Fight the Good Fight

by oleanderflowers



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Another Story About Unimportant Side Characters, Background Drag/Morgan, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, RvB Rare Pair Week, RvB Rare Pair Week 2020, Season/Series 14, Unit FH57
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24245035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oleanderflowers/pseuds/oleanderflowers
Summary: Santos wants a wine bar. Peake doesn't want to be ignored. There is one thing they have in common, though: They both want each other.
Relationships: Santos/Peake
Comments: 23
Kudos: 7
Collections: Red vs. Blue Rare Pair Week





	We Don't Have to Fight the Good Fight

“Self destruction initiated!” Cherry chimes, matching the excited tone shared by the members of FH57. Everyone turns to look at each other, confusion evident even through their helmets, and Santos tilts his head up.

“Oh, right! I never fixed the voice module,” he starts, sounding like this is entirely fine.

Sue makes an indignant noise and Morgan quickly exclaims, “Cherry, no! Stop! Uninitiate it! No self destruction!”

Peake waits for his life to end right there, waits for the ship to go up into flames with him in it. He squeezes his eyes shut and doesn’t reopen them until there’s no explosion and Cherry starts talking again.

“I’m confused. You don’t want me to self-destruct?” 

“No!” Morgan shouts. “We said _shelf construction_! Not self destruction.”

Drag sighs, crossing his arms. “Way to ruin the mood, Cherry.”

“Yeah, we were having a sentimental moment,” Sue grumbles, shaking out his arms.

“Heh, tragedy averted. Quick thinking, Morgan! Anyways, boys, the point still stands. Let’s find us some shelves.” Turf turns away, eyeing the ship’s control panel. The Blues with the tank from that canyon are seemingly forgotten.

“Okay, but where the hell are we going to get stuff for shelves?” Drag asks dryly. 

Santos gasps, his excitement audible. “Oo, can we go on a supply run?”

Turf shakes his head and explains, “Course not. I have a whole bunch of lumber in the storage rooms.”

“Why?” Morgan deadpans.

“I picked ‘em up when Sue asked me to build him a dance floor.”

Peake rolls his eyes as his teams’ banter, not sure if he should be annoyed or amused. As Turf leads Morgan, Sue, and Drag to said storage room, Peake stays behind. Santos turns towards him, about to follow the others out.

“Peake! Aren’t you coming?” he inquires.

Peake shrugs, sparing a glance at the aliens gathered behind them. “Nah, I think I’m gonna spend some time with my aliens. I don’t want them to get lonely.”

“Aw, come on! I can ask Cherry to take care of them!”

“Fake hair? What?” chimes Cherry, her voice filtering from the comm system.

Peake groans at Cherry’s usual mishearing, though Santos seems to not mind. “No, I said ‘take care’! Can you please take care of the aliens and make sure they’re okay?”

“Certainly, sir! It’s wonderful to see aliens here once more.”

“Thank you, Cherry!” Santos says before he turns back to Peake. “Now that that’s sorted out, let’s go!” He grabs Peake’s hand and begins pulling him down the halls, following where the others went.

The storage room does, in fact, have lumber. Peake doesn’t remember stopping to get it, but oh well. It’s not like the others tell him much anyways.

Turf begins hauling out boards of lumber, and Morgan manages to convince Drag to help him do the same. It’s a slow process but eventually there’s enough boards to make a few sturdy, decent sized shelves. It may not be the full spaceship wine bar that Santos has always wanted, but it’s good enough.

Despite there being a manual on how to fix the voice module of an alien spaceship’s AI, there’s no manual on how to build shelves. Turf attempts setting the shelves up against one of the walls near the quarters, and the wood looks very out of place amongst the alien architecture. Still, Drag goes to get the nails and other needed supplies while Peake and Sue hold the board in place. 

Santos is practically vibrating with excitement the whole time, Peake notices. He also lingers by Peake’s side, helping out with anything he can. After the first shelf is nailed down to the wall, Peake turns to Santos and asks, “Do you even have any wine to put on the shelves?”

He nods in response, helmet bobbing up and down. “I sure do! White wine, red wine, champagne, some sake, and a bottle of Captain Morgan!” This elicits laughs from the others and Morgan groans, his exasperation evident.

“That’s not even wine! Why do you do all this to spite me?” Morgan demands, and Drag pats him on the back. 

Thus begins the placement of the second shelf, putting it above the first one. Turf tries to get on top of Peake’s shoulders so he can nail the board down, and it somehow works. However, when he tells Morgan to get onto Drag’s shoulders and Sue to get onto Santos’s, Morgan promptly falls over and crashes into the other two. It sure is amusing to watch and Turf chuckles at his fallen team. Peake just sighs and waits for the others to get back on their feet.

Through logic unknown to them, the standing-on-shoulders technique finally ends up working. The shelf is nailed to the wall and everyone either jumps or ungracefully falls to the floor. Turf dusts off his armor and turns to the rest of them, motioning his head towards the shelves.

“Good work, boys. These are some damn fine looking shelves. Major Santos, Private Peake, you two stock up on the wine. The rest of you, get some rest. I’ve got some thinkin’ to do,” he says, turning away from the others and walking off.

“The hell are we gonna do with the aliens?” Drag mutters as he and Morgan split off to their quarters. Sue follows close behind and Santos waves at their backs before turning back to Peake.

“Come on! Let’s go get the bottles!” he exclaims, preparing to rush off to his room. 

Peake stands still, helmet tilted to one side. “Can we check in on the aliens first? Maybe they can help us?”

Santos pauses before sighing, seeming almost disappointed. He mutters something along the lines of wanting to be alone with him and Peake can practically hear the frown in his voice. “Stay with me, please? I can’t carry all the bottles by myself and I’m sure the aliens are fine,” Santos reasons. If he wasn’t wearing the helmet, he’d be giving Peake the biggest puppy eyes.

With another small sigh, Peake agrees and follows Santos to his room. Sure enough, behind a few crates at the far end, there’s a stash of all kinds of wine. Santos grabs as many bottles as he can balance and backs out, letting Peake take a few. There are enough bottles that it’ll take at least two or three trips. Hopefully everything will fit on the shelves.

The two begin ferrying bottles back and forth between Santos’s room and the shelves. About half of the bottles get crammed together on the bottom shelf before Santos sets his sights on the top shelf.

“Peake,” he chimes, sidling up next to Peake, “can I stand on your shoulders?”

Peake, being the good friend he is, nods and squats down so that Santos can get on. Their process is for Santos to grab a few bottles, climb onto Peake, put the bottles down on the shelf, get off of Peake, and repeat. Santos doesn’t seem to get tired at all, as he moves with so much energy. By the end of it, Peake’s shoulders are aching and he’s plenty exhausted.

Santos places the final bottle in the middle of the top shelf; a fine bottle of Captain Morgan rum. He then hops down and admires his work, promptly taking off his helmet. There’s a wide grin on his face and a shine in his eyes.

Peake, knowing exactly what his fellow Red is going to ask, takes off his helmet and grabs a bottle of red wine. “Do you have any glasses?” he inquires, and Santos sheepishly shakes his head.

“Nope! Guess we’ll have to drink from the bottle. Kinda gross, but it’s just you and me.” He doesn’t look fazed about it and instead sits down, patting the ground next to him. Peake joins him on the floor and pops open the cork on the bottle. He passes it to Santos, who takes a small sip and brightens up.

“Damn, that’s good,” he says, handing it over to Peake, who takes a swig. It doesn’t take long for the two to get at least slightly drunk, Santos being so way more than Peake. He’s red in the face and keeps leaning his head back, talking loudly.

“Do ya ever think about how Morgan and Drag keep going to their quarters at the same time? One time Sue told me that he saw the two coming out from Morgan’s room. _Together_. And Sue is always right.” Santos reaches once more for the bottle, and Peake lets him.

“Maybe they’re in love,” Peake offhandedly comments, shrugging. “Good for them. I wonder how Turf would react, though.”

Santos hums, turning his head to look at Peake. “Are you in love?” he asks, oh-so-quietly, sounding very serious. “Cause… I think I am.”

Peake takes a moment to think, a slight frown dotting his face. Turf and Morgan and Drag and Sue are decent teammates, he guesses, but Santos is something special. Santos was the only one who joined with him. The two led a mutiny together! That has to count for something, but there’s no way that Peake is going to spill his maybe-feelings to Santos, especially not when he said that he’s in love with someone.

Santos nudges his shoulder. “Huh? Do you? I mean, you don’t hafta tell me…” He trails off, shrugging slightly. “Oh! What if I tell you mine and you tell me yours!”

Peake purses his lips, looking away. “Okay, fine. You go first,” he finally says, reluctant as all hell. 

Santos coughs slightly, his face reddening even more. “Well, uh, you see… Heh, I like _you_ . Y’know, _like_ like. You’re smart and strong and nice and pretty awesome and I-” He cuts off, finishing with a small, “Yeah.”

“O-oh.” Peake takes a moment to process this, his own face darkening in a blush. He looks back at Santos, seeing the hopeful and nervous look on his face, and really wants to kiss him. “I thought you liked Cherry,” he tries to joke, before turning serious. “But Santos, I like you too.” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

“Do you really mean it?” Santos gushes, his voice going up in pitch slightly. When Peake nods, he shakes his hands excitedly.

A smile spreads across Peake’s face and he nervously asks, “Can I kiss you?” Santos answers him by pulling him forward and kissing him deeply. They break away, a mess of smiles, and Peake reaches for Santos’s hand.

They sit there, hand in hand, staring at the purple and blue walls and talking until Santos falls quiet and settles against Peake’s side, using his armor plate as a pillow. It can’t be comfortable but he still falls asleep, much to Peake’s dismay. 

It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep as well, sitting there in the mostly quiet ship, listening to Santos’s breathing. He sleeps deeply, only to be rudely awaken by the clearing of one’s throat.

Peake blinks once or twice, groggy from the long sleep, and sees that Santos is already awake. And surprise: the rest of the team is gathered before them, staring down. Sue has his arms crossed and a sly smile on his face, Morgan looks quite flabbergasted, Drag doesn’t seem to care, and Turf’s expression is entirely unreadable. Of course, behind them all, is an imposing wall of Peake’s aliens

“Rise and shine! Caught you two canoodling with each other and I… don’t know what to say,” Turf barks, dwindling off at the end.

“Have you two been fucking this whole time??” Morgan incredulously asks.

Santos groans and shakes his head, obviously feeling hungover. “No, no. Peake and I became _boyfriends_ last night.” He pauses before turning to Peake and clarifying, “You are my boyfriend, right? Can I call you that? Unless last night was all a crazy dream and we didn’t kiss over wine.”

Peake nods, really at a loss for words. Morgan starts shouting something or other and Drag sighs. “I knew you two were in love! You’re even more obvious than Morgan and Drag are!” exclaims Sue.

Turf frowns, turning to face Sue. “Say what now?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Sue,” Drag snaps, and Morgan hides his face, muttering something under his breath. 

“Anyways,” Santos starts, curling up next to Peake once again. “What do we do now?

“Yeah, are we still going after the Blues or…” Peake trails off, absentmindedly throwing an arm across Santos’s shoulders.

Turf clears his throat once more, looking like he’s ready to give another speech. “Y’know boys, I’ve been thinking. Remember how I said we could do whatever we wanted? Well, I mean it. These aliens here? They’re part of our team now, too. We don’t have to go after those dirty, good for nothin’ Blues. We have each other, some more so than others.” He stares at Peake and Santos when he says that, and the latter gives a small shrug. “Sue, if you wanna go dancing, we’ll go dancing. Morgan, Drag, do whatever the hell you want! But we’re gonna do it together, as a team. All of you, me, the aliens, and of course, Cherry.”

Cherry makes a happy dinging noise at being recognized and Peake stands up, smiling. He brings Santos up with him and looks around at his team. Sure, they may be a group of idiots, but they have each other. And they’re going to do whatever the hell they please.

No one can tear them apart.

**Author's Note:**

> You thought I was done with unimportant side characters? Haha nope. Anyways, this is a nice fluffy story to counter the previous angst one. I was planning on writing another Loyle story as well, but never got the time to do so.
> 
> From what we've seen, Turf is kinda like Sarge, Morgan is kinda like Simmons, and Drag is kinda like Grif. The others? Up to me to write, as they were only there for two episodes. And of course I had to add background Morgan/Drag, as it's this teams' Grimmons.
> 
> It's fun writing this team cause they have the same vibes as the Blood Gulch Chronicles. Shenanigans and stuff. Also how does love work?


End file.
